Going Infinite: The Rise and Fall of a New Tycoon

by Michael Lewis

His new social role as the world’s most interesting new child billionaire required him to do all kinds of dumb stuff. He needed something, other than what he was expected to be thinking about, to occupy his mind. And so, oddly, the more important he became in the eyes of the world, the more important these games became to him.

When you had $22.5 billion, people really, really wanted to be your friend. They’d forgive you anything. Their desire freed you up from having to pay attention to them, which was good, because Sam had only so much attention to give. Another

The family’s indifference to convention came naturally and unselfconsciously. It was never, Look how interesting we are, we don’t observe any of the rituals that define so many American lives. “It’s not like they said, ‘Gifts are dumb,’ ” recalled Sam. “They never tried to convince us about gifts. It didn’t happen like that.”

I was fascinated by his upbringing and the effect it had on how he saw the world. He grew up in a world without meaning: nothing was celebrated, no traditions, no indication of what was important or not. He was hugely into utilitarianism in the 7th grade...this seemed to contribute to what almost seemed like the making of a "sociopath for good" (my term). He was altruistic but strictly from a logical standpoint. If it had been utilitarian and he had blood lust, he could've been a serial killer. I was struck by this and, ironically, felt empathy for him...something he could never do at all.

This was Santa all over again, only worse. God—or rather the fact that anyone believed in him—rocked Sam’s world. Just sideswiped his view of other people and what was going on inside their minds. He tried to confront adults—mainly friends of his parents’ who came to dinner—about God. He

There was no point in arguing with other kids’ belief in Santa Claus. Yet he didn’t feel the slightest need to pretend to agree. He simply came to terms with the fact that the world could be completely wrong about something, and he could be completely right. There could be a kind of equilibrium in which everyone in the world could remain wrong and he could remain right, and neither side would even try to change the other’s mind. “There are times when we’re just going to stare at each other,” said Sam.

All of humanities was like this for him: dopey stuff he wanted mainly to escape but that somehow always lurked just around every corner. In choosing a college to attend, Sam sought to ensure he’d never again be made to write an essay about Jane Austen.

He felt nothing in the presence of art. He found religion absurd. He thought both right-wing and left-wing political opinions kind of dumb, less a consequence of thought than of their holder’s tribal identity. He and his family ignored the rituals that punctuated most people’s existence. He didn’t even celebrate his own birthday. What gave pleasure and solace and a sense of belonging to others left Sam cold. When the Bankman-Frieds traveled to Europe, Sam realized that he was just staring at a lot of old buildings for no particular reason. “We did a few trips,” he said. “I basically hated it.” To

This description made my blood run cold. To feel nothing in the presence of culture, whether art or religion or even just ideology, must be a lonely, lonely life. It's no surprise that he came across as ruthless which, I think, is a misunderstanding of his intention. What's interesting is that we can't judge intention, we can only observe and make sense of what actually happens...which was ruthless and, frankly, careless in terms of outcomes here.